


Take your breath away.

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dark Twist, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6645553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil has been waiting for his soul-mate ever since the numbers appeared on his arm a year ago. Though it’s funny, unlike his friends where their soul-mates are destined for them in thirty or forty years, his is just six hours away.  Then there’s Dan Howell, the boy he sits next to in class. And one day, six hours before Phil is supposed to meet his soul mate, Dan surprises him with a question.</p><p>“Why is yours so close?”</p><p>Which begs the question: is the clock counting down to a soul-mate or something else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take your breath away.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t your average soul-mate AU. (Meaning, its dark af and maybe a lil tragic)

6:00:00 Hours.

“Now, if you’d all like to turn to page thirteen. There’s a section with a practise exam question I would like you all to have a go at.”

Terrance Mason’s voice was as far-away as Phil Lester’s thoughts. He sat with his head down, his paper sitting on his desk. Phil tried hard to look at the maths paper which he was supposed to be doing, but every time he tried to figure out a sum or a figure, or what the hell the value of X was, he found himself thinking of numbers. And not the numbers on his paper. Without even thinking, his gaze managed to once again find that specific spot on his left arm, where he had rolled up his sleeves because, fuck, it was far too hot. Not because he couldn’t go five minutes without looking at the numbers which destined his best friend, his soul mate and lover. The person who would change his life forever. Phil Lester was a sucker for soul-mates. And when kids from his class, as well as all over the world, started to find a specific time on their arms which would supposedly countdown to them finding their other half, he couldn’t seem to think of anything else other than finding this mysterious person. He rested his head on the bridge of his fist and cocked his head dreamily.

He imagined seeing her or him for the first time. He’d be nervous of course. His stomach would be doing that stupid flipping-over-thing, and he would be 98% sure he would throw up. But then they would smile. A smile so welcoming and friendly the butterflies flitting around his stomach would evaporate. And he would find himself smiling too.

He traced the numbers which were delicately etched into the skin of his arm, excitedly, his grin almost taking up his whole face. The numbers were so beautiful, he thought, as his fingernails scathed bare skin and he ended up making himself shiver. How many times had he wished and fantasized that one person tracing the numbers on his arm? That _one_ person. He had spent every breathing moment since noticing the strange marking on his arm last year, wondering who exactly that person was. If it was a girl or a boy. If he or she was as beautiful and aesthetically stunning as he imagined them. “Why does your number count down?” Chris Kendall had asked the question that was always stuck at the back of his mind. Why exactly did the number on his arm drop instead of increase? His classmates all had their numbers, but they weren’t as close as Phil’s was to the finality- the moment he would set eyes on his soul mate. Chris wouldn’t meet his for another thirty years according to his arm.  But according to Phil’s arm, his soul mate was only six hours away.

He marvelled at the font of the numbers; an ominous black as darker as his obsidian hair which fell messily into excited blue eyes. The numbers were drawn so intricately it made him smile every time he even caught a glance at his arm.

“Dude, are you going to work, or are you going to continue to stare into space?” That oh-so-familiar voice interrupted his thoughts and sliced into his consciousness, shattering the daydream.

 Phil flinched, and his mind, which had previously felt like it was wrapped in a cloud of candyfloss, came back to reality. Back to some idiot waving an arm in front of his face. Back to brown eyes wide in amusement. Back to Dan Howell.

 Phil’s smile disappeared, and he bit back a groan. Dan. He turned to meet eyes with the person he’d been unfortunate to be assigned to sit with and tried to smile, but he just ended up gritting his teeth. Dan Howell smiled his oh-so-sweet smile which was full of sarcasm and teasing, and Phil just really wanted to punch him in the face. “C’mon, it’s not hard Phil!” the boy grinned, dimples appearing in either cheek. And Phil wanted to yell back, because _yes_ _it was fucking hard_ , and he didn’t happen to have the amazing intelligence that Dan had.

Though instead of saying anything, he went back to staring at his arm. The numbers had changed. Of course they had. It was strange; they always seemed to change when he wasn’t looking. Once he had stared at them for a good five minutes, but the time stayed the same. Frozen on numerical numbers permanently inked to his arm. But the second his gaze wandered, or he happened to blink, the numbers had changed just like that. And he was three or five minutes closer to his soul mate.

“Y’know, Phil,” Dan took it upon himself to invade Phil’s personal space and lean across the older boy, resting a tan arm on his desk. Dan stared at the numbers on his arm, and he swore there was _something_ in the younger boy’s eyes suddenly.  “Do you ever wonder why yours is so close?” the boy startled Phil by speaking so softly. Dan didn’t seem to want to stop staring at him. But not just at him, but _through_ him. Phil shuffled uncomfortably. Dan Howell, a strange hybrid of geek and popular guy, was practically staring directly into his soul. Phil opened his mouth, remembering how to speak.

“I’m going to meet them earlier on in life is all.” He found himself saying, or rather whispering. Because Dan had _never_ made a comment about the numbers on Phil’s arm. All Dan Howell had done for the past year and a half was tease him. But there was so badness in the boy, Phil thought. Dan was just really fucking annoying. But now, Phil stared back at the boy. At Dan Howell, who suddenly looked so much older and mature. Light almond coloured strands of hair danced in the boy’s eyes, and Phil for some reason, suddenly really wanted to brush the mess of curls out of Dan’s eyes.

“You’re staring at me.” Dan murmured suddenly, and Phil realized yes, he _was_  staring at Dan. But Dan was staring back. And once again, there was _something_ in the boy’s eyes that was so sad, and so damn old. Phil nodded stiffly. “And you’re staring at me.” He said softly. Suddenly it was like there was no teacher, no maths class. No students. Not even a classroom. It was just the two of them. Phil swore the classroom seemed to twist and turn and break apart into tiny fragments which floated around the two of them for a second, before disappearing in a flash of blinding light. Mr Mason’s voice faded into nothing, classroom chatter evaporated, and Phil was left to stare into eyes which were tinted with something he didn’t understand. Dan’s eyes were a shade of something he’d never seen before.

Everything seemed to disappear. There was just silence, a white space, and Phil Lester and Dan Howell.

“Is there..something on my face?” Dan seemed to snap out of it, and for a second, so did Phil. The sounds of the classroom returned, and Phil’s perception twisted back to reality.  The boy tried to make a joke, but Phil could tell Dan was in the same state. He cleared his throat then and swallowed the questions suddenly burning at the back of his throat. “Is it you?” and he was surprised when Dan’s gaze followed his in looking at the numbers on his arm. Then his throat got choked up, and he seemed to fully snap out of it. No, no it can’t be. He shook his head and laughed. Well, at least he tried to laugh. Instead, he made a choking noise, and Dan looked startled for a second.

“You…you think _I’m_ him?” Dan’s voice is so quiet and Phil catches a hint of amusement in the boy’s eyes. And he’s quick to mimic Dan’s smirk despite his dry lips and the overwhelming urge to see if he was mistaken. To see if the numbers had reverted to 00:00. Because that would make sense, right? He still couldn’t stop staring at Dan. He had never _ever_   felt anything for the boy. But right now his stomach was doing that stupid flipping-over thing, and his heart was pounding, and he was sure he was blushing. Oh god, he was blushing. Phil tried to laugh. “Yeah, it’s not you!” he made a gargling noise which almost definitely _wasn’t_  a laugh, and Dan nodded with a smirk. “Ditto, dickhead.”

But as much as he tried not to notice it, Dan’s voice was strained.

Then Phil was actually looking at the questions on his paper, and his mind was trying to process sums and figures and trying to figure out the value of X. But fuck, he wanted to look at his arm, he wanted to look at Dan a little more. He wanted those annoying fucking butterflies to piss off.

“Phil’s you’re writing on the table.” Phil was so busy trying to memorize numbers and try and work out the tricky question, as well as his mind a million miles away trying to think of a million possibilities why Dan _could_ be his soul-mate, he was gripping his pencil so hard, attempting to sketch a way of working out. But instead of on paper, Phil was writing directly on the table top.

 “Oh.” he didn’t manage to actually get the word out, only whispering it. He dropped his pencil, but kept his eyes on his exam paper. Luckily, Dan had gone back to working. But when Phil risked a glance at the boy, Dan was staring really hard at one question, seemingly in deep concentration. But that was for at least five minutes. Dan wasn’t even working. He was staring into space.

Phil tried hard not to think about Dan. He did everything he could think of not to, but every thought seemed to lead back to the boy.

When Mr Mason announced the end of class, Dan jumped up so fast he made Phil jump. Dan stuffed his book into his checker bag pack along with his pencil case, and shouldered it quickly. Then the boy was pushing through the crowd of kids packing up, and out of the classroom before Phil could even consider yelling after him.

Phil stood up, and his legs were shaking. His classmates around him seemed to be making more noise than normal, and he dug around in his pocket for his headphones. He packed up his things quickly and started to make his way out of the classroom. He screwed his earphones in as he wandered out if AP mathematics, and out into the hallway which was flooded with students clad in the boring colours of dark Maroon and black. Phil picked a song and stuck his phone back into his pocket, beginning to walk over to his locker. He didn’t recognise the song playing in his ears, but was thankful for the beat which drowned out the loud chatter of passing students.

He made it to his locker and stuffed his maths books inside, pausing to quickly glance at his arm.

5:45:12

Five hours, forty five minutes and twelve seconds. Phil stared at the ink etched into his arm and thought about Dan. A flash of the boy’s light brown eyes and teasing grin flashed in his mind before he shook it away and slammed his locker. The song was still pounding in his ears, and he failed to hear his name being called out.

“Phil!” he turned with a frown and tugged an earphone out. The sounds of yelling and laughing came back, accompanied with some Coldplay song he didn’t know the name of. Then he caught sight of Chris Kendall making his way through the crowd. “Oi!” the boy shouted, lifting an arm to wave. Phil caught a flash of the number printed onto Chris’s arm. Thirty years, he thought with a shiver. How could Chris wait that long?

“Hey, Chris.” Phil did the usual high-five routine thing his friend had come up with way back in year seven. Chris grinned a greeting, all while fiddling with his long fringe which was nearly obstructing his eyes. “So!” Phil jumps when his friend slaps his locker and it clangs loudly. Though he was used to Chris doing stupid things like that. It was one of the reasons why the boy was Phil’s closet friend.

“So, PJ and Louise want to cut class,” Chris’s grin widens if that was even possible, and Phil starts to make excuses before Chris smirks. “I didn’t finish!”

Phil folded his arms. “Let me guess. You guys want to get high at Peej’s place, order take out and play Mario Kart.” He can’t help smiling because that did sound good. But his mother would kill him. He remembered the last time he did exactly that, and ended up throwing up all over PJ’s dad’s favourite carpet. PJ had thought it was hilarious, but in the morning his dad had rung Phil’s mum.

Thus began the  Summer 2015, where he spent every morning earning every penny back by working 8-12 at the local corner shop.

And his soul-mate. He had five hours to kill before he finally found them, and History followed by AP Food Technology didn’t sound great. Plus the sun was shining, and Mario Kart seemed to be calling his name.

“Fine.” Phil laughed when Chris started jumping up and down excitedly. He was sure Chris was already high. “So,” Phil avoided Mrs Benson’s eyes as she sauntered down the corridor supposedly to her lesson. “Lester, Kendall..get to class.” Her scratchy voice pierced Phil’s ears, and Chris nodded, somehow managing to look completely serious and not crack a smile. “On our way, miss!”

“Better be.” She grumbled before ducking into a classroom. As soon as she was gone, Phil turned to  make a run for it with Chris, and he was going to, but stopped frozen, when he caught sight of a familiar figure standing a few meters down the corridor. It was Dan.

Dan was standing there staring at Phil, and his lips were pulled into a small smirk. When he caught Phil’s eyes, the brunette boy only took a few steps backwards and winked.

And then he was gone.  Phil blinked. Dan hadn’t walked away or gone into a classroom, he had actually _disappeared._ Right in front of his eyes.

“Mate, what are you waiting for?!” Phil snapped out of it when he felt a tug on his arm, and found himself being yanked forwards by Chris.

The bell rang, then. Startling both boys. Phil turned, stomach dancing, to Chris, whose grin disintegrated the second he saw Phil’s expression. “Whoa, are you okay? Phil, you’ve gone really pale.”

Phil opened his mouth to say that yes, he was okay. But was he? He was trying to figure out how exactly Dan Howell could simply disappear like that. “I’m..” he started to say, but was interrupted by a familiar yell. “Are you two coming or not?!” and there were PJ and Louise running towards them.

Phil swallowed his words and despite Chris’s worried frown, he greeted the others with a shaky smile. But didn’t say anything. He kept peering over Louise’s shoulder to see if he could spot Dan once again. But the corridor was empty. Dan Howell was gone.

-

00:05:09

Phil blew out a shaky breath, and tried insanely hard not to giggle out loud. It was pitch black, and he was walking down some unfamiliar street. The streetlamps were on which was good. But the bright light emitting from them and illuminating the pavement made his head hurt. Phil walked, or rather danced across the pavement. He’d played three games of “Don’t step on the cracks” and must have broken his mother’s back at least a thousand times. He was still a little tipsy after that contest with Chris on how many shots the two of them could down in a minute. Five minutes. Phil had been looking at his arm all night, silently counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds till 0.

He had no idea what time it was, and he didn’t really care. It was Friday night, he was a little pissed, and was going to meet his soul-mate. Who would honestly care about what their mother would think? Phil continued down the very-unfamiliar-street and resumed his rather childish game of Don’t Step On The Cracks. He truthfully had no fucking idea where he was going and his phone had died a while back. He was just waiting to see where the night took him. Hopefully to his soul-mate, anyway.

A car suddenly rushed past startling Phil, and he hopped out of the way, letting out a laugh. His surroundings were strange, he had to admit. There were no businesses or shops. It was just darkness, and the occasional bin if he was lucky. Phil took a right down what looked like an alleyway, and his brain screamed at him _danger_ , but his mind was only on one thing.

Phil glanced down at his arm. Since PJ’s party, he’d took his tie off and unbuttoned his collar because it was too hot, and maybe he wanted to keep a constant eye on the time which was ticking down to the moment he’d been waiting for since he’d first seen those beautiful numbers on his skin. Numbers which defined a specific time where he would set eyes on the person who would change his life.

00:01:09

 

Sobering slightly, Phil looked around, and his heartbeat started to speed up. Maybe it was because he was standing in a pitch black alleyway, surrounded by only darkness that he was suddenly really fucking scared, or alternatively it was because there was a single minute until he would meet _them._

“Here?” his mind still intoxicated with alcohol, spun, when he twisted around and tried to squint into the darkness. How could his soul mate be here? He didn’t look at his arm, because in his heart he knew it was time. He knew it was the exact moment he had been waiting for.

“Hi, Phil.”

He turned suddenly, his heart slamming into his chest when the familiar voice startled him. The voice which belonged to almond brown eyes smirking lips. His mind went into overdrive and before he knew what he was doing, he was staring at his arm, and his stomach jumped into his throat with excitement, a shiver rattling down his spine when his he saw the time inked over his skin.

00.00.00

And then looking up, there he was, almost blending into the darkness, Dan Howell. Standing over him with that fucking smirk and messy hair falling in his eyes. Dan still wore his school uniform but looked shabby and the boy looked dishevelled. But for some reason that made Dan look even more attractive, and Phil suddenly wanted to lean forward and kiss the boy. He wanted to wrap his arms around Dan and never, _ever_ let go.

“It is you!” he let out a happy squeak, and slammed a hand over his mouth, because that was too enthusiastic. He tried to calm himself and said it again, because saying it twice meant he wasn’t hallucinating. Dan nodded, smiling. “I guess you were right.” 

Phil wanted to yell at Dan, and laugh that he was right all along, ever since he really _looked_ at the boy sitting next to him in class. He started to gush gibberish that didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but he wanted to tell Dan how he felt. How Dan seemed to set his nerves on fire, cause butterflies to wreak havoc in his gut. But Dan was already wrapping his arms around Phil, and oh god, Phil felt ecstasy running though his veins. Dan was so warm. His touch so gentle.

“I think I-“ Phil started to laugh, because how was this happening? “I think I love you?” and Dan was laughing too and leaning forward to kiss him. Phil wasn’t ready. He really, really wasn’t ready. “I love you too, you spoon,” Dan’s voice was strained and it took Phil a few seconds to realize Dan was crying. And it took him a further minute to realize Dan’s arms were wrapped far too tight around him. “Dan?” he said, or rather tried to say, because Dan was hugging him too hard. His chest screamed in agony as he lost his breath against Dan’s vice grip. “What are you doing?!” he tried to shout, but Dan captured his lips in a kiss, and warmth of Dan’s lips seemed to overwhelm the pain.

“I’m sorry.” Dan murmured, and Phil felt the boy’s tears on his own cheeks. Hot and salty when he they rolled into his mouth. Phil looked up, confusion clouding his expression. “Sorry for what?”

Dan’s voice was suddenly in his ears, and the boy’s words shattered his thoughts. They seeped into him like acid and started to burn his insides.  Phil watched as Dan took a step backwards and his eyes flashed a sudden deep, dark red and the boy’s mouth split into a terrifying grin, revealing two very sharp, very pointy fangs.

“What did you _think_ the clock was counting down to?”   


End file.
